I teach a creative writing workshop and we freewrite for an hour. The goal, based on the rules created by Natalie Goldberg, are to keep writing, do not stop, do not edit, if it's scary it's because it has a lot of energy and so on. Here is one of them:
I think HGTV when I read this. Oh, HGTV, the wonderful shows you possess, with actor-wannabes who host and all their stupid glory! I enjoy when nobodies are put on camera and they begin to act all "fifteen minutes of fame."
I would decoupage a table top with gold foils from chocolate candies and then cover it with a thin coat of varnish or layer or polyurethane to give it even more of a shine. The table would be a find from someone's garbage heap -- because that is so Anderson. I saw a mother and daughter picking out a lamp at one house and three vacuums on the porch of another. The end of the sidewalks in Anderson is a landfill for the homeowner, but a vintage furniture sale for hawking mother-daughter teams trying to find thing to furnish daughter's first apartment.
I would pull over, but I would feel judged. I feel judged when I drive down the weird poor-not poor-poor again streets and then - wait! - the Historic Eighth Street of revamped houses and rich dentists and chiropractors, all those areas of town when I have my convertible top down. I feel I don't belong and what kind of contradiction would I be if I stopped by someone's house, with my top down, and threw an old piece of furniture into the backseat. I mean, of course their trash is my treasure, but it's still on their lot, their property. Am I stealing? Do I look really bad for putting it into a really nice car? A foreign car? I would be that person.
They would assume I live in a large house and when I have extravagant parties where people dress to the eights, nines and tens, they would comment on all my lovely furniture because it would all be rented! Ok. I'd never rent, but all the lovely furniture came from the garbage and it was refurbished and they will all love the gold decoupaged table.